


The scribe, the Hunter, the man.

by millygal



Series: Season 13 [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean&Sam's life, Dean's Journal, Dean's Life, Fic through art, Gen, Introspection, Introspective Dean Winchester, Introspective Sam Winchester, Take What's Broken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 21:42:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13889703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: Finally Sam is allowed into Dean's head, his heart, his thoughts.





	The scribe, the Hunter, the man.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct result of a drabble I wrote for one of my team Charlies Collectibles spn_bigpretzel Valentines Challenge. I could not get the idea out of my head. Thank you to jj1564 as always for her beta skills and tireless encouragement! Bring tissues.

Sam sits alone in the library, listening to the sounds of the Bunker settling as it’s newest inhabitant struggles to make heads or tails of his situation, and wonders what else the universe can throw at them before he and Dean cry Uncle.

As complete cluster fucks go, this one is up there with letting Lucifer out of the cage - twice.

Mom’s gone.

Kelly’s dead.

Castiel’s dead.

Crowley’s where ever King’s of Hell go when they commit suicide for the greater good.

Sam wonders if Crowley’s sacrifice will negate the fact he was a red eyed serial killer, or the fact he just committed a mortal sin. When your soul is already pitted and scarred, and you’ve been living in the muck for that long, does a mortal sin even scratch the surface?

Sam’s surprisingly not okay with Crowley’s loss. He doesn’t know if it’s because they’ve already let so much slip through their fingers that he finds himself tipping a full to the brim glass of Craig towards the ceiling, and smirking at the idea of Crowley crowing about being mourned by the brothers Winchester.

Loss, so much loss. When and where does it end? **Does** it ever end?

The amount of goodbyes he and Dean have had to say over the years is also why he’s determined - come hell, high water or apocalypse-like conditions - to give Jack the benefit of the doubt.

That boy is capable of choosing his own path, and even if Dean can’t see it, yet, he’s going to stand firm, allow Jack chance to prove himself.

He was allowed to prove himself, against all the odds and a name tag that read, _leader of the demon hordes_. Sam came through it a stronger and better man, a Hunter to look to for guidance, and a human with a big heart, no matter how many times it’s been broken.

If Sam’s still walking, talking and ganking, why can’t Jack be gifted that small hope?

As Sam takes a gentle sip of smooth delicious whiskey, Dean wanders into the library with a notebook clasped in his hands, and uses his boot to shove Sam’s socked feet off the table.

Sitting where his brother’s legs were resting, Dean clears his throat and shakes his head, as if he’s trying to dislodge an errant thought from his muddled mind. “Sammy - I - look, I’m not a monster. I’m not.”

Sam’s so shocked by Dean’s words that he pulls himself up, spilling whisky down his arm. “I never said you were - “

Dean’s eyes are hooded and cloudy, red rimmed and sunken, like he hasn’t seen daylight in weeks. “I know you worry about my - about the anger - Castiel, Mom, hell even Crowley. They’re all gone and Jack’s here and it feels like it’s his fault. I know it’s not. In here - “, Dean taps his temple, “I know, but in here - “, Dean taps his chest, “I’m having a hard time remembering that.”

Sam wants to reach out and squeeze Dean’s shoulder as it shakes ever so slightly, but he knows any physical contact right now will make his brother either clam up tight or make some crass crack about being a total chick. “Dean, I know you’re not a monster. I know you wouldn’t have shot Jack, not really.”

Dean doesn’t answer, just hangs his head and clings to the book in his hands.

Instead of scooting towards the edge of the couch and encasing Dean in his arms, Sam coughs and taps the cover of the notebook. “What’s that?”

“Proof.”

“Of what?”

“That I’m only human.”

It’s only as Dean’s head comes up and he pushes his hands towards Sam, that Sam realises what it is he’s holding. “No, Dean, you don’t have to - “

“I want you to. I need you to.”

Because Sam doesn’t make a move to take Dean’s journal from his hands, Dean simply lays it across Sam’s knees and stands, dusting invisible fluff and lint from his jeans. “Read it. Remember I’m not soulless.”

Sam can’t help the small smirk that quirks his lips upwards. “No, pretty sure that’s my bag.”

Dean turns and walks away, but not before patting Sam on the shoulder and smiling down at him, wryly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam sits alone in his room with Dean’s journal resting atop his desk. Still closed, leather strap still wrapped tightly around the outside.

Dean’s been writing this for years; tucked away in darkened corners and behind closed doors, never once offering Sam the chance to read it, and Sam was okay with that because his brother needed a space all his own, a blank page to set down his thoughts.

This is Dean’s world, Dean’s view of their world.

Sam’s more than a little afraid to open it and find out how Dean sees their universe, but the fact that Dean even offered means Sam owes him that respect. To read it might be painful, but to not read it would be an insult.

Taking a deep breath, Sam reaches out and unwinds the leather strap holding the pages together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam starts at the beginning, and can't help the fool smile on his face at Dean's bravado, even in print.

By the time the younger Winchester has finished picking random entries, he's a complete wreck, and wishes he was allowed to tell his big brother how much he loves him, and then he realises he can.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam walks up to Dean’s door, cheeks still wet with tears, eyes sparking with amusement, and finds himself eager to knock, to reassure Dean he knows he’s all human, all soul, but also, to thank him for being Dean.

Sometimes even Sam forgets that his brother is just a man, but that man has had a hand in not only saving the world, but shaping it.

Dean’s helped construct the universe Sam lives in, and despite the pain of the words he’s read, the god’s honest truth of heart ache and frustration, what shone through most was that Dean doesn’t give up, Dean fights, he believes.

For all those times Sam’s been scared of Dean losing the will or the inclination to keep on keeping on, every word he’s just read has reminded him of just how strong Dean is.

Tapping gently against Dean’s door, Sam waits for his brother to appear then hands him his closed journal and nods, before walking away smiling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean sits in his room, listening to the sounds of the Bunker at 3AM, and opens his journal.

He’s surprised and amused to find a hastily scrawled note, and it finally sooths that part of his soul that’s been aching, for weeks.

End.


End file.
